


This Memory

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, SanSan LJ Russian Roulette, unkiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: Prompt: We all know about the Unkiss, Sansa's misremembered version of the last night she saw Sandor. For this prompt choose ANY of their interactions and have the Hound 'misremember' it. What details does he change? Does he make it better? Worse?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SassyEggs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyEggs/gifts).



Sandor lay in his bed, the feast long over and the little bird tucked safely in her cage.  _Why did I tell her of Gregor? She is nothing to me._

He remembered his first interaction with the girl. She had been scared, hugged her wolf even, and then looked up at him, tears glistening in her pretty blue eyes. She was looking for help. She may have known, in that eerie Stark way, that something bad was about to happen. He should have not let her go alone with Joff. Her eyes, when Ser Ilyn had appeared, they pleaded with him… Maybe her wolf would still be alive...maybe her father and everyone else in the Stark household would still be around, maybe she would grace him with more smiles than scared eyes. Maybe the hand on his shoulder would have been a kiss on his cheek instead. Maybe she could eventually resign herself to give him a kiss, as a favor. She was a lady, and ladies love to give their favors.

**********

So the Tarth bitch was looking for the little bird. Sandor scoffed from beneath his face wrappings.  _Maybe you should try to find her instead, buggering fool, he thought to himself. _

The night of the feast, when he told her of his scars, much was blurred by the wine, but he remembered her kindness with vivid clarity. The small hand on his shoulder, the simple words that fell from her mouth, “He is no true knight.”

_So true, little bird._

The kiss on his cheek, his ruined cheek, petal soft and sweet as she was. A favor, from a lady, one he would always have, never lose, but no one else would ever know was there. He won again and again the next day. Even against his brother, though it had been the king's command that they stop, and the pillow biter had declared him champion. She had looked at him with such favor, cheered for him, that he knew it had been the kiss that had given him luck. If only he had remembered that the night of the battle. Her kiss could have kept him going, had he only remembered.

He wondered what a true kiss from her would be like. If only he had turned his head, he might have an even better memory, but that would be asking too much. Sometimes he placed his hand on the cheek, remembering the touch of her lips on his scars, wishing he had stayed for her, wishing he had stolen her, just wishing to experience her kindness once more. Not that he could feel it, but he had felt  that.

**********

She sighed as he held her. His little bird, in front of him again. “Sandor,” she whispered, no longer afraid of him. Her hand on the back of his neck, softly guiding him until her lips met his. Another sigh, happy and content.  _Heaven,_ he thought.  _Once I knew hell, and now I live in heaven._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SassyEggs: someday they are going to have one hell of a conversation about their first kiss, lol. 
> 
> Later on: And I'm not kidding about that 'our first kiss' conversation, so if you ever wanted to do a follow-up.....
> 
> Sassy can twist my arm fairly easily. :)

The winter wind whipped around the Keep, howling, but inside their bedchamber, Sandor was content, his little bird lay next to him, their third child nestled at her teat.

“What are you thinking?”

“Wondering when it’ll be my turn.” He nodded to little Cat.

“You’re incorrigible.”

He shrugged. “You said you wanted babies, I’m just trying to oblige.”

“Mmhmm, so what were you _really_ thinking?” She rose from the bed to place their daughter in the crib, then returned to his side.

He snorted. She knew him well. “The first time you kissed me, the night I told you about Gregor.”

“Wha-- I didn’t kiss you that night.”

He stared at her. “Yes, you did. You told me he was no true knight, placed your hand on my shoulder, then kissed my cheek.”

“Sandor… I didn’t… I didn’t kiss you…The first time we kissed was the night of the Blackwater! After you… After you held the dagger to my throat,” she said softly. “I sang, and then you kissed me. _That_ was our first kiss.”

“Little bird… _I_ didn’t kiss you that night… I wanted to, but when you closed your eyes… I thought you couldn’t look at me…”

“But… I kept thinking about it… you don’t know how often… it got me through _so_ much…” She looked so distressed, he covered her with his body, being sure to not hurt her, and kissed her the way she liked when she was depressed: slowly, deliberately, until she wasn’t able to think about what was upsetting her anymore. “You didn’t kiss me?” Mostly. At least she had calmed down.

“I did, just now.”

“No… I mean… you know what I mean,” she said, slightly exasperated.

He chuckled, “I know.” He kissed her again. “I didn’t kiss you. It would seem that we both imagined a kiss from the other.”

“But why? It doesn’t make sense. Why would we imagine…a kiss from the other?”

Rolling to the side, he tucked her in next to him, considering the subject. “I think… I think we both created a memory, a _good_ memory, to keep ourselves grounded as the rest of the world tumbled and rolled past us, threatening to drown us both. We clung to these...these _hopes,_ of a past that was horrible, but,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “made a little less horrible by the other. We wanted it to be, so we made it so.”

“So...we imagined something, clung to it, in order to keep ourselves afloat in the madness?” she asked.

“Maybe. Who knows?” He nuzzled her. “It gave me hope, that I could be a better man, I suppose.”

“Mine gave me strength, to not be as naive as I once was,” she replied. “I suppose, we have made up for our imaginary kisses. And so many more to look forward to.”

“As many as you want. Just like the babies.”

She smacked him and then pulled him into a kiss with a grin.


End file.
